


Of Sand and Ancestors

by caimanriseup



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestor, Dream Bubble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimanriseup/pseuds/caimanriseup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavros just wanted to be safe and alone in his dream bubble, but adventure calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sand and Ancestors

Tavros’ feet slipped around in the sand. It was still strange to be able to walk, and the sand wasn’t making it any better for Tavros’ still uneasy steps. He shuffled around as quickly as possible, hoping to see his hive soon. He had just got done talking to Vriska, still tingling and unsettled from the whole sprite incident. What was Gamzee up to?

No, no, he was dead. There was no need to get hung up on old worries and responsibilities, even though he had agreed to help Vriska “fuck shit up”. But he hadn’t really meant it. Maybe some of Vriska’s self esteem was still working on him, because normally he wouldn’t even question this. This was so confusing; he just wanted to go back to his hive. Tavros wished he could talk to his lusus, but Tavros figured he was gone forever.

Finally, Tavros’ hive came into view as he crested the sand dune. A sigh of relief was caught in his throat when he spotted a figure standing on the roof of his hive. He asked in a shaky voice, “V-vriska?” Oh, he hoped he hadn’t drifted into another dream bubble. He didn’t really feel like talking to some of the other residents of the afterlife right now.

“Not quite,” an oddly familiar voice greeted him. It had the same nervous hesitation, but was a bit stronger, like Tavros when he had his fake confidence. He winced as a bright, sparkling light blinded him. Tavros closed his eyes. When he opened them again, in front of him stood a full grown troll. That in itself was enough to send Tavros into a stuttering fit. He’d never seen an adult troll before, at least not in person. As he finally got a chance to examine the troll, he was shocked to see, if a bit distorted, his own features reflected back at him. The long horns, the toothy grin, though the great gossamer wings were throwing him for a loop. He couldn’t help but note with a bit of satisfaction that they were even more brilliant and beautiful than Vriska’s.

“W-w-who are you?”

The troll laughed, “Oh, come on. You don’t recognize me?”

Thinking of the posters in his room, Tavros answered, “Pupa Pan?”

“Is that what they started calling me after I was gone? Huh, I’m surprised they even let word of me survive after I was gone.”

After a few seconds, a thought bubbled up to the surface, a name that Vriska had mentioned on a few rare occasions. “U-uh, the Summoner? But why do you look so much like me? You’re not…”

The Summoner gave Tavros a pat on the shoulder. “Mind having me for a bit? It’s not often a troll gets to talk to his descendant.” 

Of course Tavros couldn’t say no. He let the troll in, who looked on the hive fondly. Tavros struggled with what to do. What could he do that would impress someone so cool? How could someone like that even be related to a loser like him?

The Summoner waved Tavros over, pointing at the fiduspawn gear. “You didn’t tell me this game was still around!”

Tavros offered to play a game; it would be rude not to. He half expected to have to walk his ancestor through the game like he did everyone else, but the Summoner was a pro. In fact, Tavros barely won. He couldn’t help but suspect that the Summoner might have let him win.

Into the beginning of their first game, the Summoner asked, “So what’s next for you?”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Fiduspwan is great, but you got to be planning something else.”

Tavros shook his head, cheeks burning. “N-no sir. I mean…I’m dead.”

“Doesn’t seem to be slowing down our game.”

“Oh, uh, well, I’d just mess things up anyway. I always do.”

“Even if you did, what could go worse? You’re dead!”

“I dunno.” He shuffled his card awkwardly. Why couldn’t he just live in peace for awhile? It was easier this way, for everyone. “I-I’m sorry. I’m not as cool as you.”

The Summoner huffed, “Kid, you’re the coolest troll around. You helped beat a game most people fail at, kicked ass even though you were stuck in a wheelchair, and are the best fiduspawn player since me.”

The Summoner stood up, wings filling the room. For the first time, Tavros noticed a pouch at his side. He unlatched it and out flew a little white bull. Tavros cried out, “Tinkerbull!”

His lusus buzzed over, nuzzling him happily. “How did you—?”

“He was looking all over for you. Led me right to you. Take good care of him. He’s been good to us.”

Wait? The Summoner had the same lusus. Well, Tavros guessed that should have been expected, but how could the Summoner trust him? As much as he loved having Tinkerbull back in his arms; he almost wished the Summoner hadn’t brought him. Before Tavros could say anything, the Summoner said, “You want to know something? I think you got it wrong. You’re the one who’s cooler than me, because you’re the one who’s going to win.”

A soft pop ushered in the disappearance of the Summoner, his dream bubble drifting away somewhere else, leaving Tavros with Tinkerbull and a strange, warm feeling in his chest.


End file.
